He suddenly swung me around in front of him and whisked me into his arms. I yelped before I snuggled into the perfection of his hold, winding my arms around his neck.
He maneuvered so he could slide the keycard into the slot, and then kicked the door open wide.
“Aren’t you supposed to carry me over the threshold of our house, not our hotel room?” I flashed a teasing grin up at him, my mouth curved with the force of this love.
He angled to the side so we could fit through the door. Amusement sparked in his eyes, glinted with his joy. “Well, I’d be happy to do that, too. But tonight, I’m carrying my wife through this door, and once I get her behind it, I’m going to make love to her again and again. You don’t have a problem with that, do you, Mrs. Davison?”
I laughed a little more, not able to comprehend this bliss, the way I felt, a buzz of energy burning below my skin as Christian carried me into the suite at the highest point of Downtown San Diego.
He brought us into the expansive suite. Candles glowed all around the living area, flickering as they jumped and twinkled against the floor-to-ceiling windows facing the bay. Black waters rippled and danced in the moonlight that hung low in the darkened sky.
“Who did this?” I whispered.
“I might have had a little help from your sisters and Natalie. That’s why they left the reception a little early.”
I bit my lip to bite back my awe, turned my red face into the collar of his white button-up and breathed in this magnificent man. Hours ago, he’d rid himself of the stuffy jacket and pulled off his tie.
I still couldn’t decide if I liked him better in a tux or in his low-slung jeans.
His dress shoes echoed on the marble floor as he crossed the living area into the bedroom. Here, too, candles sat on every surface. Flames flickered and danced, casting shadows across the large bed covered in plush, white linens, the bedding turned down and waiting for us, and a mass of floral bouquets filled the space.
In the background, our song played.
“I didn’t need all of this,” I whispered into the calm of the room.
“No, but I can give it to you, so why would I not?” His expression shifted, his jaw held taut. The playfulness that had followed us all the way from our reception party, into the limo, and here to our suite faded away. In its place was a distinct intensity, his expression severe. Lines deepened on his brow. A dense weight filled the room, and, in the short flickers of the flames, I watched the emotion gather on his face.
Slowly he lowered me to my feet.
A thick knot formed in my throat when Christian stepped back, his brazen gaze caressing my body.
The hair piled high on my head was beginning to fall apart with the play of this evening, the dancing and the kisses and the hands that Christian couldn’t seem to keep out of the intricate twist. Pieces hung loose, brushing down over my bare shoulders and tumbling to the top of my strapless gown.
It was the same dress that had hung in a garment bag in the back of my closet for many months, the one I’d been so eager to stand before Christian in as I promised him my life. It had to be altered, the dress originally made to accommodate my swollen belly, but this dress had always been for him.
I felt beautiful wearing it in front of him now.
He trailed his fingertips down my jaw, let them linger at the hollow of my neck. “You are the most exquisite woman, Elizabeth. No one compares to you. Not a single soul.”
I trembled at his touch, shook with his words.
How was it possible he still made me feel this way?
He took me by the shoulders and guided me to turn. His breath washed against the back of my neck.
The fine hairs at my nape lifted, and chills sped down my spine.
Adept fingers worked on the tiny pearl button at the top of the gown’s zipper. Goosebumps flashed across my flesh as Christian freed it and began to drag the zipper down, my skin slowly exposed.
The gown pooled in a heap at my feet.
“Beautiful,” he whispered.
I wore a white bustier that dropped low in the back, the satin-lined bodice pressing my breasts together in the lift, matching panties that were all satin and lace, and a pair of white heels I’d slipped on when we left the beach.
For a moment, we just stood there, Christian’s presence burning into me from behind.
Finally, he touched me, his palms gliding down my hips to my thighs, before he trailed them back up, applying pressure as he turned me around. His mouth curved in gentle affection when he took my hand and helped me step from the mound of fabric bunched on the floor.
Christian took a step back, let his eyes wander as he contemplated every inch of me.
A blush blossomed across my chest and spread all the way to my cheeks. The man had seen me at my worst and seen me at my best, and he’d made love to me countless times. Still, his gaze slipped over me in a slow appreciation, as if he were undressing me for the very first time.
A strip of bare skin was exposed between the bodice and my panties, and Christian’s attention dropped to it. He reached out, his right thumb making a tender pass over the tattoo that rested on the front of my left hip.
The tiny black bird had spread her wings, her spirit free.
My Lillie.
Christian had one that matched.
We’d gone together, another step that felt as if we were slowly healing. I’d come to realize that I was scared that moving on meant I had to let her go. Now I knew that wasn’t true. Even though we hadn’t been allowed to keep her here, she would forever live in our hearts.
Our forever.
She would always hold a piece of that.
I would always feel the loss of Lillie. Her memory would always hurt, but I’d learned to find joy in her, in the love that Christian and I shared for her, in the unending hope that I realized we needed to carry on in her name.
Christian cupped my face between his hands, a storm of intensity brewing in his eyes. “I love you, Elizabeth. More than you will ever know. You have absolutely made me the happiest man alive.”
I smoothed my fingertips against the sharp angles of his jaw, let them flutter up to trace the curve of his lips. “But I do know, Christian. Because there is no way to love you more than I love you now. No greater joy than this.”
His hands slid down my neck and over the cap of my shoulders. He leaned to reach behind me, ticking off the little clasps that held together the lingerie.
A rush of cool splashed against my skin, and my nipples pebbled as they met with the air. Christian dipped his head, took over my mouth, his kiss strong and slow as he circled my breasts with the pad of his thumbs.
A tiny moan slipped up my throat. Christian devoured it as he intensified his kiss, stroked my tongue with his.
I nipped at his bottom lip as I sought out the button on his waistband, worked it free, rushed through the buttons on his shirt. My palms came flat to his chest, and I pushed his shirt free from his shoulders.
Kicking off his shoes and socks, Christian twisted out of the shirt. I edged down his pants, taking his underwear with them.
My eyes wandered and traced, adoring this beautiful man that I loved with every ounce of my life.
He scooped me up and placed me in the center of the bed, his muscles rippling as he crawled up to me. He grasped me by the knees, slowly pressing them apart as he ran his palms up the inside of my thighs.
A trail of fire burned in his wake and throbbed between my legs.
He twisted his fingers in the edges of my panties and dragged them down, leaning in to brush his lips in a tortuous path behind them.
“Christian, please.”
The man was always making me beg.
A soft chuckle rolled from him as he moved to hover over me, dipped down to kiss me, long and hard. He hummed, the sound a vibration from his mouth that shot straight through me. He let his fingers wander between my thighs, brushed his knuckles across the sensitive skin.
I moaned.
“Look at you,” he whispered as he settled between my legs. His erection slipped against my folds. One hand cupped my jaw, and he tilted my chin up to him. “My wife.”
Then he took me whole, body and soul. All of me. Always.
Our bodies bonded, we moved slowly. My fingers were woven in the promise of his, and he kept them nested between our chests. We were nose-to-nose, breath-to-breath.
Christian stared down at me as he made love to me for the first time as my husband, the man I was giving all of my days.
Our lives had taken us in so many directions. We’d been granted so much joy and burdened with so much sorrow. We’d been forced down roads we didn’t want to take, blinded by the unforeseen, taken detours that had led us to the unexpected.
My eyes were locked on the one who waited at the end of my every path. My destiny. The one I could never escape.
“I love you, Christian,” I whispered, a promise, an oath.
Christian nuzzled me beneath my ear, then tipped his mouth to whisper in it. “We made it, Elizabeth.”
And Christian loved me, the way only he could.
And I knew it. Knew he would be my forever.
Christian ~ One Year Later
I stood at the large window, peering out into the near dark.
When the night had grown deep, I’d climbed from bed where I’d lain for hours, unable to sleep. I’d crept across the bedroom, drawn to the peaceful scene painted outside.
The quarter moon hung low in the sky. It glinted across the murky waters of the raging sea. Tree branches beat at the walls, a squall of heavy wind lashing at the earth. In the distance, waves rushed up the shore and crashed on the beach.
I could stand here for hours. Just listening, lost in my thoughts.
Five months ago, we’d finally found the perfect house. It was a beautiful structure, five bedrooms, a kitchen Elizabeth would be happy to live in, and a sweeping backyard.
Yeah. It backed up to our beach.
Lizzie spent entire days out playing on the lawn, pumping her legs furiously on her swing, walking hand in hand with her mother, barefoot in the sand.
As much as we loved it here, Elizabeth and I knew the walls themselves meant nothing. It was what filled them that counted, the laughter that echoed from them, the happiness they contained.
Joy reigned here.
That didn’t mean there were no bad days. There were still times when I found Elizabeth on her knees in the huge walk-in closet adjoining our bedroom. Lillie’s blanket would be balled in her arms. She’d rock it as if she were rocking the child she never truly had the chance to. She’d cry and she’d whisper incoherent words, she’d love and she’d adore. Then she’d dry her eyes and climb to her feet, tucking those precious tokens away until she felt compelled to be immersed in them again. She’d never had the strength to leave them out, to put any of it on display, but instead hid it away as her own buried treasure.
I’d be waiting for her, leaning up against the doorframe. Elizabeth would cast me a mournful smile as I pulled her into my arms, and she’d mumble into my shirt how much she missed her.
And we were okay with that, welcomed those days because, even though they hurt, they belonged to Lillie.
Another wave crashed, and the ocean stirred.
Behind me, our bed creaked, a soft rustle of sheets. I looked over my shoulder.
Elizabeth sat up on the side of the bed, arching as she pressed her hands to her lower back. Her long hair fell in waves as she lifted her chin, brushed along the bed as she stretched her neck.
My breath caught.
Beauty. There was no other way to describe it.
She’d always reminded me of honey, the golden glow of her skin, the sweetness of her mouth, the warmth in her eyes.
I started toward her, whispering, “What are you doing awake, baby? You need to rest.”
She blinked at me through the shadows of the darkened room. She almost pouted. “Too uncomfortable.”
She blew a strained breath between pursed lips.
I crouched down between her knees. My fingers crawled up the top of her legs and around to her back where I massaged deeply into her hips where she always seemed to be sore.
She whimpered out a subdued moan. “That feels so good.”
“I wish I could do more.”
“Just keep doing what you’re doing and I’m a happy girl.”
Her fitted tank top had ridden up, bunched just below her swollen breasts. The huge protrusion ballooned out between us, her belly button stretched thin.
Elizabeth was five days passed her due date.
A smile tugged at the corner of my mouth.
Apparently my son was stubborn.
Three months after our wedding, we found out Elizabeth was pregnant again. News of this pregnancy hadn’t been met with the thrill of the last, with the wild expectation for what was to be. Instead it’d been met with trembling hands and trepidation.
But we’d realized this life was worth the chance, that we had to breathe and live and love, and we couldn’t allow fear to hold us back.
It didn’t mean there weren’t the nagging worries, the panic that would tighten Elizabeth’s eyes if she thought it’d been too long since she last felt him move.
For our peace of mind, Dr. Montieth had recommended that we get a home heart monitor. She’d taught us how to use it, what to look for and what to be concerned of, the quickened whirl of his heartbeat a promise that he was okay.
Elizabeth looked down as she ran her hand over her stomach, bit her lip as she glanced up at me under the hedge of hair that had fallen in her face.
I reached up and brushed it back.
She cradled him between her hands. “I wish he would come,” she whispered. A smile trembled at her mouth. “I can’t wait to meet him.”
I slipped my hands around her sides and to her front, covered Elizabeth’s hold in mine as we swam in our anticipation. “I’ve never been more ready for anything, Elizabeth.”
She smiled a little before a yawn overtook her. She chuckled as she tried to conceal it behind her hand.
I nudged her chin with the hook of my index finger. “You need to get some rest. I have a feeling you’re not going to get much of it really soon.”
She giggled in the cutest way. “Yeah, I guess he can’t hide out in here forever.”
I crawled in bed with her, pulled the covers over us as I nestled her back against my chest. She curled into me, her tender hand covering mine where I rested it on the distended wall of her belly.
Contentment thrummed between us.
Her breaths evened out like a soothing balm, and she quickly drew me into sleep.
A thrill of energy rose up in the room, a cheer of encouragement. “You’re almost there, Elizabeth. Give me one more big push,” Dr. Montieth coaxed.
Sweat drenched Elizabeth’s forehead, soaked her hair. She clenched my hand as she bore down and cried out.
For a moment, there was silence as our son slipped into Dr. Montieth’s hands. Time seemed to stop as I watched the frantic movements that had slowed in my mind. The doctor held him in a blue blanket, one hand at the back of his neck as she almost tipped him upside down, the other suctioning out his mouth and nose.
Blood stained him, covered him whole, this little boy that already held my heart.
My vision blurred.
Then he cried.
These shrill, shocked cries that welcomed him into this world.
Another blanket was tossed on Elizabeth’s belly, and they set him on his side, the two nurses roughing it over his tiny body.
And he was crying and crying. The precious sound rattled through the room as his little arms and legs flailed.
Shaking uncontrollably, Elizabeth reached for him, palmed his head with an unsteady hand. He reacted, tilting against her touch as if seeking her out, a stutter in his cries as his mouth twisted at the side because the child already knew her.
And she wept, tears of r
elief and tears of joy, a torrent of emotion spilling from this amazing woman. From the woman who held my dreams, the one who held my future.
I rushed to smooth her hair back that was drenched in sweat, dropped my forehead to hers, lost myself in the warmth of her brown eyes. “You did it,” flooded as a desperate whisper as I kissed her mouth, as I kissed the woman I loved with all my life, “You beautiful girl. You did it.”
I stood at the window, peering out into the night, rocking in a slow sway. Waves rushed in, crashed on the shore. A contented sigh flowed from me as I rocked from side to side.
Myles squirmed in the safety of my hold, cradled in my arm. It was a writhe, the little guy worming around with a restless roll, extending his head back.
I couldn’t hold in my smile.
I’d been right.
My son was stubborn. He knew exactly what he wanted and when he wanted it.
Stretching his free leg, he flexed his foot, digging his toes into my skin. Tight against the side of his face, he clenched and unclenched one tiny fist. He jerked his open mouth toward my chest, his tongue jutting out between his lips as if he were searching, hunting.
But of course he was.
He wanted his mother.
Jerking the other direction, he fought with his fist, trying to stuff it into his mouth. He was making all these little noises, rattled sounds that were not quite a cry.
“Shh…” I rocked him a little, the softest bounce. “Let’s let mommy sleep just a little longer. Do you think you could do that? It’s not quite time for you to eat yet.”
At the sound of my muted voice, he looked up at me with his wide, storm-blue eyes.
Love consumed me, filled every crevice of my being as I looked down at his perfect face.
My son.
Elizabeth insisted those dark blue eyes would turn the color of mine. She said Lizzie’s had been so much the same. I wasn’t sold on it yet. His hair was light, a thin layer that didn’t even cover the cap of his head, like maybe he was going to take after his mother, this beautiful child that had completed our home.
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